


I'm Thinking We Should Ride.

by Lizewskii



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Drug Use, M/M, Sex, TDP!Ronan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-11
Updated: 2015-09-20
Packaged: 2018-04-20 05:58:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4776209
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizewskii/pseuds/Lizewskii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He could stay here. He never needed to move. His car was his temple and Ronan Lynch was his God.<br/>But his God had to go and ruin it.<br/>(a tdp!ronan au)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a The Dream Pack!Ronan fic. So, an AU where Ronan never started hanging out with the gangsey but instead got caught up with Joseph Kavinsky and his pack of dogs.

The problem with bad nights was that Ronan never knew when they were going to happen.  Half the time he didn’t even sleep at night. But that evening, as he slipped out of consciousness, he could feel the dread washing over him.

The dream was choppy. Heavy breaths. Dark trees. Screaming. Pain. He wrapped his hand around something small, not entirely sure why, or what it was, but it made him feel better as the howling started in the distance. He wanted to wake up. He didn’t want to feel this. He hated feeling scared. He needed control. He needed to drop out of this dream.

So he did. In and out, like Kavinsky had always said.

He was awake, but standing outside of his body, watching as his arms bled, the trees had gotten him. His hands were clasped firmly around something so small he couldn’t even see it. He was sure how long he stood outside of himself, but he was pulled back in when he heard a loud clang, and a string of swears somewhere in the distance. He sat up with a shaky sigh and looked down at himself, finally feeling the blood drip from his arms. It wasn’t as bad as it could have been.

His clock told him it was seven in the morning. He groaned and pulled himself out of bed. He followed his typical routine. Fix himself up in his bathroom, feed his bird, and pull on his suffocating Aglionby uniform. He took a much too large sip from the bottle of liquor on his bedside table before leaving the room. That tiny dream thing still in his hand.

He walked past Kavinsky’s room, no sound coming from inside. He was probably still asleep, or maybe he hadn’t come in in the first place. That wouldn’t be a surprise. Ronan placed the little thing in front of the door and stared down at it. A small replica of Kavinsky’s Mitsubishi Evo, covered in his blood. Ronan nodded as if this was a suitable present and continued downstairs.

Prokopenko and Skov were in the kitchen. Which looked more like a warzone than usual. There were shards of broken glass all over the floor and splashes of blood everywhere. Prokopenko was in the chair whining, and Skov was leaning against the counter laughing. An average chaotic morning.

Ronan kept to himself as the kitchen filled up. People cleaning, complaining, someone needing a clean sweater because they had a presentation today.

Ronan got himself a coffee.

Things always seemed to get more chaotic when Kavinsky walked in, even if he didn’t say anything. It was as if the rest of the boys drew energy from him. Everything got louder when he was in the room.

“Hey, shithead, my car, or yours?” Kavinsky asked, tossing something to Ronan as he sat down at the table. Ronan caught it, and looked at it. It was the matchbox Mitsubishi.

“Yours.” Ronan said, throwing it back. Kavinsky smirked, catching it and shoving it into his pocket. He reached across the table and grabbed Ronan’s cup of coffee, holding it up to his lips and taking a sip, before motioning towards the door with his head. Ronan raised an eyebrow.

“Let’s get out of here.” Kavinsky said as he walked over to the sink and dumped out the nearly full cup of coffee. “What the fuck happened?” He looked up at his boys, there was a flurry of answers. Ronan was not paying attention. He rolled his eyes and headed for the front door. Kavinsky nearly skipped after him to catch up. Right on his heels as Ronan went out the door.

Kavinsky was first into the actual Mitsubishi, and pulled out of the driveway before Ronan was completely in the car. “No book bags,” Kavinsky noted, glancing in the back seat as if they might be there. He shrugged a bit. “You want to text Proko?” Ronan glared at Kavinsky, who was sliding on those ridiculous white sunglasses. “Seriously, you magnificent piece of trash? You’re not gonna get fucking arm cancer if you take two second to say: Proko you fucker, we forgot our bags, be a dear and bring ‘em to school. You will live.”

Ronan shook his head and looked out the window but pulled his phone out of his pocket anyway. He texted, word for word, what Kavinsky had said to him. “You are so fucking annoying, you know that, Jersey Trash?”

Kavinsky snorted. “Well, who the fuck else is going to hang out with you? You want to go suck off Dick III?” He smirked.

Ronan’s composure broke. His lips pulling up into a wide smile, and his eyes sparkling, as he howled with laughter. Kavinsky stared, he couldn’t pull his eyes away from Ronan. Every facet of Ronan was like some sort of natural beauty. He was calm days at the beach, and raging thunder storms, every fucking star in the sky. Kavinsky loved it.

“Can you imagine?” Ronan chuckled. Kavinsky quickly looked back at the road as Ronan turned to look at him, only catching a glimpse of his smile.

“Ronan Lynch, all prim and fucking proper.” Kavinsky howled as he pressed his foot down on the pedal. “You’d be his goddamn lapdog.” 

Neither could stop laughing as Kavinsky drove further, and further away from Algionby academy. Ronan didn’t question it. He didn’t want to go to class anyway. Kavinsky sped to the edge of town, moving his hand from the gear shift to Ronan’s thigh as he slowed down. Ronan subconsciously licked his lips, his eyes moving slowly over to Kavinsky, who was smirking wildly as he pulled over on the side of the road in front of the NOW LEAVING HENRIETTA sign.

Without prompting, Kavinsky pulled himself up over the armrest, and into Ronan’s lap. Ronan suppressed a moan as Kavinsky made a point to push himself up against Ronan. “Figured we could relax a little before class.” He said, reaching his hand into his pocket and pulling out a joint. Ronan laughed. He’d seen Kavinsky do enough coke to kill a person, and so many drugs that didn’t exist, it was incredible. And now he was sitting in Ronan’s lap holding up a pathetic little joint. “You trust me?” Kavinsky raised his eyebrows above the rim of his glasses. Ronan smirked. He reached forward and tugged the glasses off, putting them on his face. He mimicked Kavinsky’s expression as best he could.

“Fuck no.”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Kavinsky chuckled as he produced a lighter and lit the joint. He placed the joint between his lips and breathed in. He smirked as he moved closer to Ronan, which looked ridiculous with all the smoke behind his lips. He pressed his lips against Ronan’s, which were open, and ready. Ronan inhaled, his eyes nearly rolling back in his head as his lips began to move against Kavinsky’s. It was more than just pot. Ronan sighed as Kavinsky pulled back. Taking a drag for himself. Ronan’s hand moved instantly down to his pants, there was enough room to undo his zipper. “Eager little dreamer, aren’t we?” Kavinsky smirked, pulling himself up.

Ronan grabbed the joint from Kavinsky, taking another drag, as Kavinsky lifted himself up and started to shimmy his pants down. He pressed his lips against Ronan’s temple as Ronan blew out smoke. Ronan couldn’t hold in the moan as Kavinsky lowered himself down. Kavinsky chuckled, bucking his hips slowly as Ronan pressed his face into Kavinsky’s shoulder. K grabbed the joint out of Ronan’s loose fingers before he could drop it.

Their moaning and cursing rose above Kavinsky’s base heavy tunes, the car filled with smoke, and rocked with the rhythmic movements of these two dream kings.

It didn’t take long, in this euphoric state, for Ronan to buck his hips and throw his head back, letting out a loud moan as he shoved himself further into Kavinsky. The glasses shifted on his face as his head rolled. Kavinsky didn’t even try contain himself. The look on Ronan’s face would have been enough to push him over the edge without all the thrusting. 

Kavinsky rolled down the windows after lifting himself off of Ronan and moving back to his seat, leaving his legs hanging on Ronan’s. He was panting heavily. Smoke slowly floated out the windows. Ronan wasn’t even paying attention. His head tilted back, glasses down too far on his face, and eyes filled with stars. Kavinsky laughed. “Nice and relaxing.” He chuckled, sticking his feet out the window. He could stay here. He never needed to move. His car was his temple and Ronan Lynch was his God.

But his God had to go and ruin it.

“We should get to school,” his voice was low, and slow, he obviously hadn’t completely come back. “I don’t want Prokopenko to be complaining all night about carrying those damn bags around.” He chuckled slightly. “Why did you have me text him if you weren’t even going to go?”

Kavinsky shrugged. He could do without all these formalities. He didn’t need Aglionby. “Maybe I wanted to piss him off.”

“Speaking of lap dogs,” Ronan chuckled a bit more.

Kavinsky laughed too. “Such a fucking shithead.”

“I’m a shithead?” Ronan raised an eyebrow, “you got cum on my sweater.”

Kavinsky lost it.

 

They got to Anglionby at lunch, Ronan no longer wearing his soiled sweater. Prokopenko did not complain, as Ronan had suspected. Instead he smirked, something that was eerily similar to Kavinsky’s and opened his mouth, “weren’t you wearing a sweater this morning, Lynch?”

Ronan sneered. He was about to quip back, but muscle memory kicked in as a very noticeable silhouette came into view. He grabbed a napkin from Jiang’s tray and crumpled it into a tight ball. “Hey, Dick!” He yelled, tossing the thing across the room. It hit its target, one Dick Gansey, square in the head. “You find that dead king of yours yet?” Kavinsky smirked, unable to resist Ronan’s constant pestering of the high and mighty Raven King. Gansey stared at him, eyes slightly narrowed, unsure what to say. Logically he knew engaging was the worst option, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to. “You gonna wish for a bigger cock when you do?”

Gansey didn’t have a chance to answer as the table erupted with laughter. He let out a long sigh, pulled his shoulders back, and shook his head as he walked away. Grumbling something about how incredibly worthless people like that were.

And none of those boys cared. Because what did it matter if people like Dick Gansey thought people like Ronan Lynch were worthless. He himself knew he was worth so much more than anyone in this town, especially a guy with a hopeless dream of a long dead king.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It was just Ronan and Kavinsky speeding through the universe. They would never age, they would never die. They would live in this moment for eternity.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A lot of reckless driving in this one.

Their cars were all parked in the abandoned lot of an old store. Any passerby would be horrified. Six boys in ratty Aglionby sweaters, lounging on their fast, expensive cars, passing around beers and drugs, they could only be up to no good. But at this very moment, the pack was not on the prowl. They weren’t looking for trouble… they were just planning.

“We going down to the strip tonight?” Prokopenko asked, cracking open the beer that Kavinsky had tossed him. He was sitting on the hood of his Golf. Although it could have Swan’s. Kavinsky couldn’t keep track. He didn’t think they could either.

 “Proko, you’re an adult now, you don’t have to ask permission to do every little thing.” Kavinsky tilted his beer towards his favorite forgery with a smile on his face, his eyes hiding behind his white sunglasses.

“Whatever, _mom_.” Prokopenko rolled his eyes. Swan and Skov, who were sharing a space on top of Swan’s (or Proko’s) car, legs and draped and tangled, cackled like a pair of hyenas.

“He’s got a point though,” Jiang, who was leaning against the door of his Supra, started. “Us going down to the strip, and _us_ going down to the strip are two different things.” He lit a cigarette. Kavinsky’s eyebrow raised far above the rim of his glasses.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Kavinsky leaned forward, blowing out smoke. As his face pushed through the cloud he looked something like a miraculous dragon.

“It means,” Jiang started, but didn’t have to finish.

“You and _dad_ keep running off to do _adult stuff_ ,” Swan smiled.

“Yeah, you’re neglecting your children!” Skov tried not to laugh too much.

“Jesus, stop fucking calling me that!” Ronan piped up. He had been sitting in the passenger seat of the EVO, his BMW still in Kavinsky’s driveway. His long legs sprawling out of the car were a thing of beauty.  

“Would you prefer daddy?” Prokopenko grinned. The other boys snorted with laughter. Kavinsky had a wild smirk on his face as he lay back on against the windshield. Ronan looked up at Kavinsky through the glass, his smirk matching Kavinsky’s.

“Oh yeah,” he said slowly, “I love it when you call me daddy.” His tongue on full display as he spoke. He didn’t need to see Kavinsky’s eyes under the sunglasses to know that he was staring. His jaw slightly slacked, his cheeks flushing. Kavinsky suppressed a shutter as he looked away. Moving his free hand slowly down to his crotch to rearrange some things. Ronan’s smirk grew satisfied as he sunk lower into the car seat.

“I feel real dirty,” Skov whispered to Swan, loud enough for everyone to hear.

“Our parents are flirting in front of us, I don’t know what you expected.” Swan whispered back equally as loud.

“Fuckers,” Ronan muttered, trying to hide his smile.

“Well then, _children_ ,” Kavinsky said as he slipped off the hood of his car, tossing his cigarette away. “Let’s fuck shit up tonight. A nice family outing.” There were murmurs of agreement from the other four boys. “Ronan?” Kavinsky looked back at Ronan, who was starting to stand. His lips pulled back into one of those famous Ronan Lynch smirks. It was dazzling. Kavinsky got chills.

“Whatever you say, mom.”

 

The night had gone exceptionally well, considering the plan had been very basic. The list, that Kavinsky had written out in one of Ronan’s dream pens, consisted of:

  *          Drink
  *          Fire
  *          Drink
  *          Vandalize
  *          Drink
  *          Richard
  *          Drink
  *          Murder



Everything but the last item was crossed off. They drank, started a fire in one of the public schools, drank, spray painted the sides of businesses all over town, drank, hid a literal bag of shit in Gansey’s figurative piece of shit, and drank. But no one had died yet. So they went down to the drag strip. This night had not been advertised as one of Kavinsky’s legendary parties. And it was a Tuesday. They were the only ones there.

Which is how they liked it. They were feeding off of each other, high off the energy and Kavinsky’s drugs. There was no one in the town as spectacular as they were, in fact, they doubted anyone in the world could live up to their horrible splendor.

Thoughts of the people of Henrietta waking up to see the mess that had been made of their little town stroked the boy’s egos and had them stroking their own cocks.

“So who are we killing?” Prokopenko asked no one in particular.

“You,” Kavinsky smirked making his finger and thumb into a gun and putting it to Porko’s head. The air was electric and filled with harmonies of cheering and revving engines.

“I die, you die.” Proko shrugged, accepting his fate.

“Other way around, sweetheart.” Kavinsky pulled the trigger on his finger gun.

Prokopenko, in over dramatic glory, fell to the ground with a choked scream. His body gyrated a few times, drawing the attention of the other boys, who started screaming in horror and sorrow, before he stopped. Finally dead. Kavinsky smirked and put his hand in his pocket.

“Shit dude,” one of the boys mumbled, but they quickly returned to what they had been doing before. Some strange game of chicken that could easily end in one of them dying. Neither of them seemed to be worried about that.  

Prokopenko opened his eyes and rolled over, picking himself up off of the ground, chuckling. Swan, who was standing between Jiang and Skov’s cars, the headlights washing him out completely, yelled: “HOLY SHIT, HE’S BACK FROM THE DEAD!” Just as Skov revved his engine and sped forward. Jiang followed suit. Swan, in a moment, jumped up and rolled off of the hood to the side, just as Jiang jerked the other way. Avoiding a death and collision. They were all laughing.

“You want to get out of here?” Kavinsky said suddenly, looking away from the three pups, to the hell hound that was smoking by himself. Ronan loosened his grip on the almost completely burnt out cigarette and let it fall to the ground. He gave a small shrug. Ronan had been moving very slowly all evening. In one of his moods, Kavinsky assumed. Which was no fun. K wanted to throw Ronan in front of Jiang’s speeding Supra. That would get his gears turning.

Kavinsky took the non-committal shrug as a yes, and moved towards his EVO, which Ronan had been standing by. Sometimes Kavinsky was worried Ronan liked that car more than he liked him. Which is why, sometimes the car had to die. Kavinsky didn’t like being in competition for Ronan’s affection.

“Where the hell are you two going?” Proko asked. Offence evident in his voice. Kavinsky could hear the tires screeching to a halt. Either someone had just died, or they were all watching him leave. He spun on his heels and flashed a smirk.

“To do adult stuff.” He tilted his glasses down just enough to show his wink and turned back to Ronan to get into the Evo. He pulled his glasses off and rested them on the top of his head. The two got into the car, with a loud chorus of boos from the other boys. Kavinsky stuck his middle finger out the window as he sped backwards, whipped the car around, and vanished down the road leaving only a cloud of dust behind.

As they swerved in and out of traffic, having no regard for lights or regulations, Ronan slowly traced his eyes over to Kavinsky. He watched him carefully before speaking. This was the Kavinsky that had intrigued him so much before they had truly met. Feral and uncaring, completely destructive, yet somehow still alive. The one that lived in the shows, not the one that went to Aglionby. Ronan, in his slow stupor, stopped himself from moving his hand down to his crotch. “What’s up with you, K?”

“Me?” Kavinsky turned his head so quickly it was a miracle his neck didn’t break. His nostrils were flared. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“Nothing,” Ronan’s eyebrows raised slowly. Kavinsky looked back to the road, his fists clenching tightly around the steering wheel. His knuckles turned white.

The thing about Ronan fucking Lynch was that he wasn’t a fucking liar like every other person in Kavinsky’s life. If Ronan said nothing was wrong, then nothing was wrong. And that was great in most instances. Ronan’s no bullshit motto was something Kavinsky needed. But the problem with Ronan saying _nothing_ was that Kavinsky wanted something to be wrong. He didn’t want to be the only one fucked up tonight. “I took some pills,” he paused, “dream pills,” he clarified, “haven’t taken them for a while.” He gave a slow shrug. “I’m tired.” He pressed his temple against the cool glass, rocking it slightly. “Joseph,” Ronan raised his eyebrows again without looking at Kavinsky. “Who are we killing tonight?”

Ronan expected bullshit.

“Death,” Kavinsky said casually.

Ronan got what he expected.

“I had a dream last night, you know? Really fucked up.”

“Me too.” Ronan nodded. Suddenly, and momentarily, feeling the dread wash over him again.

“Doubt it.” Kavinsky shifted gears as he sped up. Ronan was amazed at how good Kavinsky was at mistreating his car. “I watched myself die. My father killed me. Prokopenko killed me. You killed me.” His voice caught. “Again, and again, and again. Different ways every time. I was stuck sitting there watching myself bleed to fucking death all night. So I’m thinking,” he snapped to get Ronan’s attention. The locked gaze between them was electric. “I’m gonna fucking show death. He thinks he can fuck around with me. Well, you don’t fuck with Joseph Kavinsky!” His growl matched the sound coming from his engine.

“K, I don’t…”

“Are you with me, fucker?” Kavinsky glared at him. It was obvious what he was doing. Ronan had seen it so many times. He was hiding his fear with anger. Ronan nodded. There was no point trying to stop him. Kavinsky needed to get this out of his system. And it would be better if Ronan was there. Kavinsky’s smirk grew as he sped forward. Everything outside was a blur. It was just Ronan and Kavinsky speeding through the universe. They would never age, they would never die. They would live in this moment for eternity. As Kavinsky reached to grab the gear shift, Ronan placed his hand on top of it. Kavinsky left it there.

It all happened so quickly Ronan hadn’t even realised at first. It was probably a spectacular sound but he had missed it. Everything smelled like gasoline and blood and there was something metal screeching. He felt something trickle down his face. There was glass all around him, all over him, and when he looked up, there was no front to the car. It was the windshield, and then a wall. He slowly turned to look at Kavinsky, examining his hands and lap as his eyes moved over. His fingers were still intertwined with Kavinsky’s over the gear shift. He pulled them apart.

Kavinsky was bleeding, bad, something sticking out of his arm, and his leg. Blood everywhere. But he was laughing hysterically. His eyes wide and unfocused. “WHAT THE FUCK DID I SAY!?” he screamed at no one in particular. Or perhaps he was staring down death. “YOU CAN’T KILL ME!” He howled.

“Shit,” Ronan groaned as he slammed his shoulder into the door to open it. It creaked and he hissed. He fell out of the car, landing on his hands and knees in the glass and gasoline. He stared at the ground trying to focus on individual blades of grass. “I’m calling Proko.” He said quickly to the ground, as it would tell him that was a good idea.

“Don’t! He’ll fucking ruin it.” Kavinsky was still chuckling.

Ronan shook his head. “You’re fucked, K.” Ronan reached into his pocket and pulled his barely used phone. It didn’t seem any worse for wear from the incident. He pulled himself up off the grass as the phone rang and looked around, trying to find any landmark that could direct Prokopenko to them. Ronan found one, told Proko, and hung up before the other guy could get a word out.

 

Kavinsky had taught Ronan how to dream better. But that didn’t mean it was easy for _him_. Ronan was the lucky one. Ronan wasn’t a thief. He could ask and receive gratefully most times. But Kavinsky had always had the shitty lot in life, so he wasn’t much for complaining. He pulled himself out of the dream with a shaky breath. His arm bleeding through the bandage that Prokopenko had put on him. His leg stinging. He closed his eyes again pressing back tears. Proko had told him not to move. He needed to rest after a stunt like that. No fucking before school, no partying for a week. Kavinsky rolled his eyes. He didn’t need all this rest and relaxation, he needed a good line of coke.

But when Ronan agreed with Prokopenko, Kavinsky didn’t stand a chance.

Kavinsky clutched something tightly in his hands. An apology. It wasn’t really something physical, but some strange, shifting part of a dream. All the things Kavinsky would have butchered if he had tried to speak them.

He swung his sore legs over the bed and groaned as he lifted himself up. It was only a couple of steps down the hall to Ronan’s room. He knelt down to place the thing outside of the door. But found his legs unwilling to pull him back up. He huffed and slunk down against the wall.

Ronan had to have passed out by then. Kavinsky could close his eyes for a moment. His lids were heavy, and dropped quickly, his head leaning against the door frame. He ignored the creaking as Ronan’s door opened immediately. “You’re gonna fuck your neck up if you stay out here all night.” Kavinsky hissed as Ronan lifted him up like a groom would a bride and carried him over the threshold of his room.

Very gently, Ronan placed Kavinsky in his bed and joined him under the thin sheets. Like he was dealing with an eggshell, Ronan wrapped an arm around Kavinsky. Their fingers immediately tangled again. Ronan rested his head in the crook of Kavinsky’s neck, and pressed his lips gently against Kavinsky’s jaw. They both let out a long sigh, their bodies happy to be back in a position which they both recognized as _safe_.

Kavinsky was a good enough apology.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four pizzas, a lot of complaints, cash strewn everywhere, and six boys being thrown out into the parking lot with threats of calling the cops. No cops were called though, so the boys sat out on the hoods of their cars in the parking lot, pushing each other around and forgetting about literally everything else.

“Are we talking yet?” Kavinsky asked his thin lips pouting uncharacteristically as he glared down at Ronan. It was Friday evening and Ronan was sitting by himself in the living room. The other boys off doing other things.

Ronan hadn’t heard a word but was very aware of the presence. The light which illuminated his Latin cross word puzzle book (a dream gift from Kavinsky) had been blocked. He reached for his phone to pause his music but the other boy’s hand was faster. Ronan cursed and ripped his headphones off as Kavinsky turned the music up as loud as it would go, trying to keep his pout instead of laughing.

“Son of a bitch!” Ronan growled.

“I’m getting tired of this silent treatment, Ronan.” Kavinsky shoved everything off of the arm of Ronan’s chair and into his lap before sitting down there. “Are we talking?” This had been Kavinsky’s biggest concern for the past week. Prokopenko was getting very annoyed with Kavinsky’s inability to shut up about the fact that Ronan Lynch wouldn’t open his mouth.

“ _You_ sure as hell are.” Ronan scrapped his fingers of the back of his shaved head. Kavinsky rolled his eyes. He was used to punishment after incidents like the one he had pulled, but he preferred when they involved handcuffs and not a ten day silent treatment from Ronan.  

The truth was, Ronan hadn’t taken this glorious vow of silence because he was pissed at Kavinsky and wanted to teach him a lesson. Ronan had done some equally stupid things, if not worse than the one Kavinsky had pulled last Tuesday. He was mad at himself. Mad for letting it happen, for letting things get out of hand. He could have stopped Kavinsky, easily. But he was high. And he wanted to see how far Kavinsky would actually go. He wanted to see if it was really possible to kill death. K brought out the worst sort of curiousness in Ronan.

“You know what I mean, shithead.” Kavinsky quickly slid off of the arm of the chair and into Ronan’s lap, with the rest of the useless junk. He didn’t care that he was sitting on the TV remote. Ronan slowly moved his hand down to Kavinsky’s waist and left it there. “I want to fuck.”

“You are in the right place,” Ronan’s lips instinctively twitched up into a smirk. It was hard to stay mad when Kavinsky was sitting his lap.

“No, _I_ want to fuck _you_. It’s been awhile. I’m sick of taking it like some fucking bitch.” Kavinsky shook his head. “I want you under me.” Kavinsky spoke quietly as he moved closer to Ronan, resting his lips on Ronan’s jaw. He spoke slowly, his teeth scraping across the skin. “I want to fucking destroy you.” Ronan kept his cool, but it was hard.

He was hard.

Kavinsky smirked.

And then there was a flash, and those very familiar cackles. “We should put that on the fridge!” Kavinsky groaned, and turned to see Skov and Swan standing in the doorway to the living room, a camera in Swan’s hand.

“If we had a competition for like, cutest house couple, you guys would definitely be in a very close second.” Skov chuckled, draping his arm around Swan’s shoulder. 

“Second!?” It only took a second for Kavinsky to be up on his feet. “Second to who? You two fuckers?” He stepped forward.

“You know it!” Swan smirked, putting his arm around Skov’s waist. “We’re fucking adorable.”

“Not going to be so fucking cute when I beat the two of you to shit!” Kavinsky growled. With a flurry of laughter and yelling a chase commenced. At the first chance they got Skov and Swan split up. Kavinsky went after Skov.

Ronan went to find the other boys. He wouldn’t need an update later because he could hear everything Kavinsky, Swan, and Skov were doing. Kavinsky tackling Skov, swearing, punching, Swan tackling Kavinsky, more swearing, more punching, a clusterfuck of limbs as they all tried to grab at each other, and then the eventual laughter.

Proko and Jiang seemed to hear the exact same thing as Ronan entered Jiang’s art room. “The fuck was that?” Jiang asked. Ronan shrugged. Prokopenko was sitting in the chair, Jiang’s buzzing tattoo needle moving smoothly over the skin. Jiang was like some kind of wizard with that thing. Ronan couldn’t make out what Jiang was creating on Pokopenko’s arm, but he’d see it soon enough. It was hard to contain the joy of getting a new tattoo from Jiang.

“We should do something tonight.” Ronan said as he sat down in one of the other chairs. Both boys looked at him, a little shocked. “It’s been more than a week since K crashed that fucking car, might as well go have some fun. I think we’re all getting cabin fever.”

“All of us?” Jiang cocked an eyebrow. “Dude, I went out like three fucking nights in a row. Skov and Swan have been trying to elongate the list of public places they’ve been fucking and Proko,” Jiang looked at him, “well I don’t know, have you been doing anything?” Proko gave a small shrug. “You and K are the only ones under house arrest. We’re all fucked, but we don’t try and kill ourselves on a regular basis.”

“Dying is a boring side-effect.” Ronan and Proko mocked Kavinsky in perfect unison. Having heard the line far too many times.

“Okay, I get it you, you guys live glamorous lives without us, but I’m just saying we should all go do something tonight.” Ronan crossed his arms over his chest.

“Actually all of us?” Proko raised an eyebrow.

“Because last time Kavinsky said that,” Jiang started, “you two ran off on one of your little attention seeking spats.”

Ronan rolled his eyes, “I’m not fucking Kavinsky.”

“Yeah you are,” Kavinsky smirked from the doorway.

“Wait, I thought you wanted to fuck him.” Skov groaned as Kavinsky jabbed him in the side, right where a fresh bruise was forming. Swan started to laugh.

“Let’s go get some fucking pizza.”

A switch had been flipped. Kavinsky was no longer in his slouching, pouting, whining, _Ronan won’t talk to me_ , mood. He was back to the Kavinsky they were all used to. Cool, collected, and in command.

 

Nino’s ice tea was supposedly famous. And it _was_ good. But it was definitely better when you added a shit ton of alcohol. And it made for quite for the night. Four pizzas, a lot of complaints, cash strewn everywhere, and six boys being thrown out into the parking lot with threats of calling the cops. No cops were called though, so the boys sat out on the hoods of their cars in the parking lot, pushing each other around and forgetting about literally everything else.

This was what Ronan loved. This was why he hung out with these assholes. He didn’t have to worry about anything, he didn’t have to be someone he wasn’t. He sat around with his friends, as drunk as anyone could be, telling shitty jokes and getting in minor fist fights. He was not wasting his youth, despite what Declan had said. Hell, even if he was, he didn’t give a fuck. It was times like this that he believed every word Kavinsky had said to him when they were high and tangled up in bed together.

That he was important, a king among men, worth more than anything this shitty town had to offer him. He was invincible. He was a God.

Kavinsky pulled back from Ronan. They were sitting on his BMW, as K hadn’t yet replaced the EVO, their lips locked together. The other boys were in the midst of a very aggressive chicken fight. Kavinsky let out a nearly deafening whistle followed by a low chuckle as all heads turned to him. The boys quickly got off of each other’s shoulders to observe the scene that Kavinsky was causing.

Richard Campbell Gansey III, that poor Adam Parrish kid, and some girl that none of the boys recognized, were walking out of Nino’s. Kavinsky must have been whistling at the short girl in the ratty clothing. Ronan was impressed by how pissed off she seemed. Most people were either flattered or terrified by Kavinsky’s approaches.

“Hey, Gansey, I didn’t know you hired ladies of the night! We’ve got a bit of cash ourselves if you want to come share!” The pack chuckled as Kavinsky leaned back, a lazy smirk on his face. Ronan expected the girl to storm over her and try and beat the shit out of K with her short limbs and tiny fists. He was ready for an explosion, but he wasn’t expecting it out of that mouth.

“How fucking disrespectful are you?” The curse word seemed to stun everyone. Dick III was a respectable guy, not someone known to lower himself down to the level of swearing to express anger. “First you’re in there making a mess, and then you come out here and scare off potential customers, which, frankly is incredible rude!” Kavinsky rolled his eyes as Gansey stepped forward. Ronan slowly slid himself off the BMW. Very aware that the Parrish kid was eyeing him. “And now this? It’s uncalled for, and disgusting and I want you to apologize to my friend.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Kavinsky started, the guys already chuckling, “I wasn’t aware that that midget prostitute was your girlfriend.”

“I’m not joking around, Joseph. Apologize and get lost. No one wants you around here. You could fall of the face of the earth, no one would care.” Kavinsky raised an eyebrow to that as he slipped off of the car. It wasn’t the first time someone had told him that. His movement was slightly off balance from all the alcohol moving through his system. He took a step towards Gansey but Ronan held him back.

“You going to fight me, Richard? Defend the honour of your beautiful little lady over there?” He motioned back to Gansey’s friend. His point resting on Adam instead of the girl.

“I don’t need him to defend me!” she piped up, stomping forward. She was a lot more intimidating than anyone in the pack had suspected.

“Chill, babe, it’s a fucking compliment.”

“Fucking compli-what!?” She gasped.

“Blue,” Gansey looked down at her, his voice calm.

“You guys are disgusting!” She shook her head. “One of these days I hope you wake up and realise that you’re all trash. Women are not just little play things that you can have fun with! You have no respect!”

“Honestly,” Gansey looked past Kavinsky to the other boys, “I can’t wait. Ten years down the line you’re all working in a McDonalds, or better yet, dead.”

There was a pause and Kavinsky jerked. Thankfully Ronan was there to grab him again, or Gansey would be on the ground, bleeding. Kavinsky didn’t care what people said about him, but he could not stand when people talked shit about his boys. “Don’t.” Ronan whispered in Kavinsky’s ear, but that did nothing. Kavinsky broke free of Ronan’s grasp and stomped the space between himself and Gansey.

He got uncomfortable close. His smoky, alcohol filled breath washing over Gansey as their noses touched. “Really living up to your name, huh, Dick?” Kavinsky shoved Gansey, who stumbled backwards but managed to stay upright. The girl took a step back, but it didn’t matter, Kavinsky wasn’t paying attention to her, he couldn’t care less about her. “You know what? Fuck you and your superiority complex! I don’t have to fucking explain myself to you, but you know what? This,” he pointed back to the boys, “is my fucking family. I found it all on my own and it is a little broken but it’s still fucking good!” He’d heard that somewhere, but in his drunken rage he couldn’t remember where. “Yeah. It’s still good. It’s better than anything you could pull together. We don’t need your fucking education, and your god damn books, and your fucking king to be worth something! We’re worth way fucking more than you! You talk shit about my boys again, and I will rip your fucking dick off and shove it down your throat, Gansey.”

Kavinsky lunged, and Gansey stumbled back again. Ronan moved forward quickly to make sure Kavinsky didn’t actually try anything. He really didn’t need a police call from town sweetheart Gansey III.

“ _Really_ living up to your name, Dick.” Ronan repeated as Gansey and his girlfriend, or whatever she was, walked back over to their friend. Ronan’s hand placed firmly on Kavinsky’s chest. He could feel it rising and falling slowly as Kavinsky took long choppy breaths, all his muscles tense. “What a fucker,” Ronan said, moving his hand slowly. He pressed his lips against Kavinsky’s hollow cheek, tracing them slowly down to his jaw line.

“I’m going to fucking fight him.”

“Maybe some other time, stud.” Ronan grabbed Kavinsky’s other shoulder and spun him around to face the guys.

“I didn’t know you cared about us so passionately.” Jiang teased.

“Yeah, I mean, that was pretty intense,” Prokopenko chuckled. “You wanna give us a kiss? Have a big group hug?”

“Shut the fuck up,” Kavinsky rolled his eyes, but his lips twitched up into a smile at the end. “You guys are assholes, I just hate that high and mighty dick more than I hate you.”

“Is anyone going to mention the fact that K just quoted a Disney movie?” Skov’s smile grew.

“Why are our parents so embarrassing?” Swan shook his head in mock embarrassment.

“Shut the fuck up!” Kavinsky yelled, but he couldn’t hold back the laughter.

 

“You know what I’m thinking?” Skov started as they walked back into the house. It was nearly sunrise but they had needed to burn off a lot of steam after that little incident in the Nino’s parking lot. “All of that _Dick_ talk has got me thinking we should compare dick sizes again, I mean, it’s been a while since the last time, I think it’s a good idea!” This idea was met to a chorus of groans. “What?” Skov tried to act innocent, but he was smiling.

“You always fucking suggest that!” Jiang shook his head.

“Because you know you have the biggest dick in the house,” Ronan shoved his hands in his pockets. He hated to admit that. But it was true. As many drunken nights getting naked and comparing cock sizes revealed. Skov was big in a lot of ways. Height, muscles, voice, hands, and most importantly, dick. Sometimes the grandeur of him got lost in his playful personality, but it was hard to ignore when he was standing in front of you, completely naked with a dick like a race horse.

“Okay, well, think of it this way!” Skov spoke through chuckles as he spun around and walked backwards in front of the group. “I win, automatically, because I am fucking huge, but it could be like… second and third, and fourth, and fifth! And the loser has to wear like a necklace with a picture of Gansey on it for a week.”

Kavinsky snorted.

“I’m not participating.” Swan shook his head.

“Scared you’re gonna lose, babe?” Skov tried to go in for a kiss, but was met with a jab to the gut.

“I’m tired, okay! Can we just go to sleep?” Swan furrowed his brows.

“I second that.” Jiang yawned.

“I don’t want to walk up the stairs.” Proko shook his head. The staircase, to most of the boys, seemed like an impossible mountain, after most of their energy had been used up gallivanting through the night.

“I call the couch!” Skov yelled, as he moved much faster than he expected to get from the front room to the living room. This was followed by a round of curse words, and groans, as the other boys followed him in tired delight. Skov was the first to land on the couch, but his relaxed sigh turned into a groan as Kavinsky belly flopped on top of him. He had not been expecting that. Kavinsky shoved his face into Skov’s shoulder.

“No fair,” Swan pouted.

“Get over here, bird brain, there’s room.” Skov rolled his eyes. Swan laughed a bit and managed to squeeze himself in between Kavinsky and the couch. “Any other takers?” Jiang shrugged and got on top too, finding a comfortable spot on top of and in between Swan and Kavinsky.

Prokopenko shrugged and found space at the arm of the couch, at the feet of the boys, and bent himself so his face was resting on someone’s thigh, although he wasn’t sure who’s. His back was guaranteed to hurt in the morning, but for now he was very comfortable.

Ronan smiled down at the mess of bodies on the couch. There was no way he was fitting comfortably on there. He grabbed a cushion off of one of the chairs and dropped it on the floor before sitting down and leaning back against the front of the couch. He rested his head on Skov’s shoulder. A hand slipped out between the bodies and hung down over the edge. As soon as Ronan lifted his, the other quickly grabbed it and clung to it tightly. Ronan smiled as he sighed and felt his body start to drift off.

What the fuck did it matter what Dick Gansey thought of them? People like Gansey didn’t understand people like Ronan, or Kavinsky, or any of the guys. No one did. Ronan wasn’t even this intimate with his own brothers. When people looked at them they didn’t see how this bunch of fucked up guys truly was a family. The little things, playful kisses and friendly punches, homemade lunches and midnight drives. Yeah they were fucked up. Yeah, some of them would probably end up dead, or worse, in a dead end job, but that didn’t matter. They were reckless disasters who were completely in love with each other.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There was nothing exciting about a never present being who responded to prayer in the most vague of ways, if at all. At this moment Kavinsky was dreaming of his god, in all of his naked glory, standing before him. His knees sore from so much worship. His entire body showed signs of diligent adoration. Kavinsky’s god was never absent. His prayers met with earthquakes and floods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter gets kinda steamy just a heads up  
> (also sorry it took so long to post, meant to finish it yesterday but that just didn't happen)

“This is ridiculous.” Kavinsky groaned.

“You don’t have to come with me.” Ronan shook his head, eyes narrowing slightly. “I didn’t ask you to.”

“I want to,” Kavinsky said, pulling a comb through his dirty hair, trying to make it look as respectable as possible. Ronan didn’t have that problem. He rolled his sleeves all the way down and tucked his shirt in, but there was nothing he could do about the tattoos on his hands, or the one on his neck. He stared at himself in the mirror, suddenly unsure.

“Here,” Ronan said, holding up a tie. Kavinsky huffed as he turned around. Ronan flipped up his collar and put the tie around his neck. Kavinsky held his breath, eyes on Ronan as he carefully knotted the tie, fingers working more delicately than Kavinsky could have imagined. “You almost look proper,” Ronan laughed, standing back. Kavinsky finally let the air get to his lungs again, staring at Ronan instead of turning to look at himself. “What?” Ronan’s eyebrows rose. “Do I look like shit?”

“You always look like shit,” Kavinsky’s smirk finally showed itself as he turned to look in the mirror. It was strange, like looking into an alternate dimension. Ronan picked the comb up again worked out a particularly difficult bit of Kavinsky’s hair. “Sorry, kid, don’t got a buck, maybe I’ll tip you next time?” Kavinsky looked at Ronan still smirking.

Ronan just shook his head, but he was smiling. It was strange how Ronan seemed to move between teen delinquent and perfect church boy without an inkling of trouble. As he stood before Kavinsky in his dark suit jacket, and his colorful tie, only a tiny bit of tattoo sticking out above the line of his collar. Kavinsky knew that Ronan worshiped God, but he’d always wondered if Ronan knew that Kavinsky worshiped him.

“So should we get going?” Kavinsky asked, loosening the tie around his neck, which wiped the smile off of Ronan’s face. “Don’t want to get bad seats. Gotta have top priority when you’re worshiping the big guy.”

 

Declan Lynch, prim and proper as always, never liked to say that he was excited to see Ronan walk through those church doors and sit down on the other side of their youngest brother. He didn’t think it needed to the said. The fact that he and Ronan were civil seemed to be enough. But that day was different. As soon as he saw Joseph Kavinsky saunter into the church, because he was in fact sauntering behind the middle Lynch brother, his expression hardened.

Declan had made it clear that he did not like his brother hanging around Kavinsky and his wild friends. They were hooligans, sure to get Ronan into trouble, and constantly up to no good. And while it may not have looked like Declan had the highest opinion of his brother, he never actually wanted to call him a hooligan. A victim or circumstance that had gotten in with the wrong crowd, was a better way to put it. If he could break away from the horrible hold Kavinsky seemed to have on him, he still had a chance to turn out okay.

But now Joseph Kavinsky was here, tainting the only time Declan got to spend with his brother where he was sure it wouldn’t end in a fight. Declan looked forward as Ronan slipped into the pews and sat down beside their youngest brother. Kavinsky slouching the spot beside him, knee touching Ronan’s.

Ronan watched as Declan looked forward. He knew Declan wouldn’t be happy about this, and that was part of the thrill. But he was curious to see if it would turn into a fight, or another silent spell from the eldest Lynch, both things Ronan was very familiar with. It was a good thing Matthew was there to buffer.

“That’s Joseph Kavinsky.” Matthew whispered to Ronan, as if Ronan was unaware who he’d brought into this holy place. Although, perhaps it was an imposter, surely the real Kavinsky would combust into flames as soon as he set his foot down onto the consecrated grounds.

“Yeah,” Ronan said, with a small nod. A rare, genuine smile spreading onto his face as he looked down at his brother. Kavinsky didn’t know about Matthew, and Matthew didn’t know about Kavinsky, and they never would. He wanted to keep these two things separate. Matthew was too pure. Kavinsky too ruined.

“Hi,” Kavinsky said, in a much too loud whisper, holding his hand out to the youngest Lynch brother as he leaned forward. Matthew shook the hand, and smiled.

“Hi, I don’t think we’ve–”

“Don’t,” Ronan said, pushing Kavinsky back against the pew with his elbow. Matthew looked more shocked than he felt, as he had been told many times not to talk to the people that Ronan hung out with. Both his brothers seemed to agree on that. But he was 14, he was a high school student, he should be allowed to do what he wanted. Ronan and Declan weren’t their father. But Matthew had never actually tried to talk to those guys they seemed pretty scary.

“What!?” Kavinsky glared at Ronan. “I’m trying to be fucking civil.”

“Don’t fucking swear in church,” Ronan shot back with a low growl. “I don’t want your dirty hands all over my little brother.”

“But it’s fine when they’re all over y–” Ronan rammed his sharp elbow into Kavinsky’s side. He gasped, and looked forward, cursing under his breath. Ronan looked back at Matthew, who seemed to be trying not to smile.

Kavinsky managed to stay awake throughout the service, which Ronan was surprised by. But Ronan had no idea what lengths Kavinsky was going to to keep his mind preoccupied enough as to not fall asleep. It was a wonder it wasn’t showing.

As they knelt down in the pews for prayer, Kavinsky couldn’t help but think how he much preferred to be on his knees before Ronan Lynch. Ronan was a grateful and generous god, and prayer was much more intimate in their chapel. Kavinsky saw no appeal in this mysterious figure that Ronan and his brothers seemed to worship. There was nothing exciting about a never present being who responded to prayer in the most vague of ways, if at all. At this moment Kavinsky was dreaming of his god, in all of his naked glory, standing before him. His knees sore from so much worship. His entire body showed signs of diligent adoration. Kavinsky’s god was never absent. His prayers met with earthquakes and floods.

“You can get up now,” Ronan whispered in Kavinsky’s ear, lips dragging over the delicate skin. Kavinsky kept his cool and slid back up into the pew. If Ronan knew what Kavinsky was thinking he would probably be pissed. And in all honesty, Kavinsky didn’t want Ronan to be mad at him about this. This was something Ronan did every week, rain or shine, it didn’t matter if he had a major hangover and a fresh broken bone, he still got dressed up and came to church. Obviously it was important to him. And now he let K into this private thing that he did and all Kavinsky could think about was sex. A little bit disgusted in himself, he tried to tune into what the man at the front had been saying, but he was lost.

So he nodded when other people nodded, and hummed when everyone else sang, and tried to look as engaged as possible, hoping Ronan would notice this, and be pleased. Maybe he would get a treat when they got home for being such a good boy.

 

“We should go out,” Matthew said, a huge smile on his face, as the three walked out of the church. Three, because Declan was still inside shaking hands and catching with people he hadn’t seen in a week. Kavinsky didn’t understand the formalities, but when the youngest Lynch suggested that his face lit up. And then, of course, Ronan shot it down.

“No.” He said in such a matter of fact voice that God himself probably would have listened. And if Declan had have been outside, he would have agreed.

“Come on!” Kavinsky nearly whined. Unlike some more devout people he was willing to argue with his god. “It’ll be fun! We get loaded, go out, have a good time, I get to know your angel of a little brother!”

“Going out for you, and going out for my brother are two very different things.” Ronan shook his head. It was true. Kavinsky was thinking of drinking, probably doing a line of coke off of Ronan’s abs… maybe his little brother’s abs too, a night that would probably end in sex. Matthew was thinking more along the lines of going to Nino’s, maybe checking out a movie, or mini golf. Matthew wanted to get to know this mysterious guy that his brother was living with (dating? Matthew wasn’t even sure of that), while Kavinsky wanted to get fucked up… as he always did. “And there’s no way either of those things are happening.”

“Oh come on, Ronan!” Kavinsky shoved him.

“Yeah, Ronan!” Matthew laughed.

“See the kid gets it!” Kavinsky chuckled a bit.

“Stop talking to each other.” Ronan glared at Kavinsky. “I brought you here because…” Ronan wasn’t entirely sure why he had brought Kavinsky here. To share a piece of himself, maybe. To let Kavinsky know him a little more intimately than most people, perhaps. But he wasn’t going to say that. “I didn’t bring you here to corrupt my little brother.” Ronan shook his head.

“I second that,” all head’s turned as Declan walked out of the church, phone in hand. “I think we can all agree that it would be best for you to keep your immoral ways away from Matthew.”

“Immoral ways?” Kavinsky gasped overdramatically.

“You say that like you don’t know everything you do is a sin.” Ronan looked at Kavinsky, eyebrows raised. He didn’t want a fight. Not right now. “Let’s just go, okay?”

“I want to know what your brother’s problem with me is.” Kavinsky took a step towards Declan, who suddenly became very alert, slipping his phone back into his pocket. He itched to roll up his sleeves, his body already tensing for a fight, but he didn’t. He wasn’t going to instigate something that didn’t need to be instigated. He wanted to get along with Ronan, even if it didn’t seem like it, and fighting with Ronan’s boyfriend (or whatever he was) wasn’t the best way to do that. Although, Declan was still firm in his belief that Ronan could easily better himself as a person if he just stopped hanging around with that trash. Ronan had potential. He could be so much more.

“Kavinsky,” Ronan growled. He put a hand down on Kavinsky’s shoulder and moved close to his ear, just as he had in the church. “Declan is my fight, not yours, leave him alone.” Anyone who knew Kavinsky knew he wasn’t one to back down from a fight. But he also wasn’t one to get on Ronan Lynch’s bad side. He huffed, and pulled a pack of cigarettes out of his pocket. Offering them to the Lynch brothers, all of whom refused, before taking one out for himself.

“I don’t get what the big deal is,” Kavinsky said as he turned away, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag. “I just want to get to know your dumb little brother.” He grumbled, blowing out smoke. “He’s not going to start snorting coke after spending a night with me.” A small smirk spreading on his lips. “Unlike you.”

Kavinsky groaned as he got an elbow in the side.

“Did he just say you snorted cocaine?” Declan nearly gasped.

“We’re leaving now,” Ronan looked at his brothers.

“Wait,” Declan started, “can I talk to you for a second?” Declan raised an eyebrow. Ronan glanced at Kavinsky, wanting to leave as quickly as possible, and then nodded. “Don’t talk to each other.” Declan said. Ronan seemed to nod in agreement as he walked off with Declan, leaving K with Matthew.

“Hey,” Kavinsky said, watching the other Lynch brothers go. “I got a question.” Matthew raised an eyebrow. He too watched his brothers leave. Both continuously glanced back at the older Lynch boys, both knowing that the two of them talking was like breaking a law. Kavinsky didn’t care much for laws, but breaking Ronan’s was a lot scarier than others. “How come you’re like… white?” Kavinsky’s eyebrow rose.

“You can’t just ask people why they’re white.” Matthew laughed a bit. Kavinsky shrugged.

“Cuz your brothers are like–”

“Yeah I noticed,” Matthew shrugged, “Genetics, I guess. Mom is pretty pale, classic golden blond hair look. Dad was not.”

“So, your dad was black?”

Matthew nodded, waving his hand in front of his face to avoid some of the cigarette smoke. “I feel like this might be why Ronan didn’t want me talking to you.”

Kavinsky chuckled and took a step back from Matthew as Ronan and Declan made their way back. “See you next week.” Ronan said to Matthew without stopping. He grabbed Kavinsky’s arm and quickly pulled him away, before he could say anything else.

“Your brothers seem nice,” Kavinsky smiled as they got into the car.

“Shut up.” Ronan laughed. “I can’t believe you almost got in a fist fight with Declan. Scratch that, I can.” Ronan nodded as he started the car. “Declan would have kicked your ass.”

“No fucking way, I could take him.”

Ronan snorted as he pulled out of the church parking lot.

“What did he want to talk to you about?”

“Want food before we go back to the house?” He raised an eyebrow, ignoring the question.

“I don’t want to go back to the house,” Kavinsky said, absently flicking the butt of his cigarette out the window. “Let’s just… go, let’s just drive,” Kavinsky shook his head. “I want to get away.”

“Okay,” Ronan nodded, “but we aren’t crashing my fucking car.”

Kavinsky laughed.

 

Picnic wasn’t the first thing that came to mind when anyone thought of Ronan and Kavinsky running away together. But somehow, the two had ended up in a grassy field somewhere, surrounded by fast food wrappers, laying in a mess of limbs. Ronan’s blazer and shirt off, because Kavinsky had insisted he needed to do a line of cocaine right there in that moment.

Kavinsky sat up and stared down at Ronan, who was laying on his back, using his now rumpled up dress shirt and blazer as a small pillow. His tie lying off to the side. “I’d like to pray.”

“You mocking me, Kavinsky?”

Kavinsky shook his head. “We all have our gods, and I’d like to pray to mine.”

“Whatever you say,” Ronan rolled his eyes. He sighed as he looked up at the sky.

“Dear god,” Kavinsky started, folding his hands like people had in Ronan’s church. “It’s been… something over a week, since my last proper worship, and I just wanted to apologize for that. I have a lot to make up for. I am a sinner, you know that, we all know that. So, I offer you,” Kavinsky stopped, and nudged Ronan’s arm. “Close your eyes Lynch, this is prayer.”

“Your eyes aren’t closed.” Ronan chuckled, but closed his eyes when Kavinsky glared down at him. He wasn’t sure what sort of game K was playing at it, but it was fun to watch. “I offer you,” Kavinsky said again after a minute. “My heart,” Ronan heard fabric moving, but kept his eyes closed, “my soul,” he felt Kavinsky reach beside him and grab the tie. “And of course… my body.” Kavinsky said slowly. After a long pause he finally said, “now open your eyes.”

Ronan was shocked, and he wasn’t, when he opened his eyes and saw one tie covering Kavinsky’s eyes, and the other around his wrists, holding them together. Ronan smirked. “Your offering is you tied up? What sort of god would want that?”

“Sacrifice, Lynch,” Kavinsky smirked too, a slight shiver going down his spine as he heard Ronan shift in the grass. “My god is a malevolent one.”

“And where is your god?”

“Don’t make me spell it out.” Kavinsky groaned. Something about finally admitting to Ronan that he thought he was a god made Kavinsky feel very strange, more so than the arousal he had already been feeling. But he hoped that Ronan would take it as a joke, a quirky little role play. Lynch couldn’t see all his cards.

“We’re in the middle of a field.” Ronan chuckled a bit, glancing around to make sure there was no one else. There wasn’t. It was just him, shirtless, and Kavinsky, tied up.

“What better place for religious sacrifice? Cain and Abel and all that junk.”

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.” Ronan laughed. “Should have put one of those ties in your mouth,” Ronan started to smirk, “I guess this’ll have to do.” Kavinsky stiffened on instinct as Ronan pressed his rough lips against K’s. Kavinsky immediately pushed forward, wanting to take, instinctively. Ronan pushed back. “So,” he whispered, his lips still touching Kavinsky’s. “This is a sacrifice? You’re mine to do with as I please?” Ronan couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of the whole situation. Of course, that didn’t mean his dick was any less hard at that moment.

“Anything your heart desires,” Kavinsky smirked, moving forward to kiss Ronan again. Ronan pulled back.

“I’ll be right back… gotta get something from the car, don’t go anywhere.”

“Jesus Lynch.” Kavinsky laughed as he heard Ronan stand up and walk away.

“Don’t get too excited,” Ronan called back, “just grabbing a condom.”

“You’re a fucking loser, Lynch!” Kavinsky grumbled to himself about Ronan ruining the moment while he waited. Of course, he could have avoided this by bringing the condoms from the car. He hadn’t really been thinking.

Kavinsky didn’t hear Ronan’s return. He gasped as he felt the heel a boot press into his back, and shove him forward. His face pressing into the soft ground. “So,” Ronan said, the casualness gone from his voice, “your god is malevolent?”

“Pretty damn spiteful,” Kavinsky said, his mouth full of grass. He could still feel the pressure form Ronan’s boot on his back.

“And you’ve been neglecting him.”

“I’m fucking sinner.” Kavinsky tried his best to keep calm.

“Damn right you are,” Ronan chuckled, finally removing his foot from Kavinsky’s back after grinding it slightly, Kavinsky squirmed and it was evident he was suppressing a moan. Didn’t want to seem too eager. Very slowly, Ronan knelt down behind Kavinsky, who was bent over himself. His hands found their way to Kavinsky’s shoulders, under the collar of his buttoned up shirt, carelessly pulling it apart. Kavinsky chuckled lifting his head slightly, but one of Ronan’s hands nudged it back down as the other pulled Kavinsky’s collar back. There wasn’t much Ronan could do about the shirt, short of cutting it off, because Kavinsky had been really smart and tied up his own wrists before taking his shirt off.

Chances were they weren’t tied up very well anyway, but there was no point in undoing them now. So he pulled the shirt down as much as he could at the top, showing off as much of Kavinsky’s shoulders, back, and upper arms, as possible, and tugged it up all the way from the bottom. It was good enough. He bent down, pressing his lips against Kavinsky’s neck. Moving all over his back and shoulders, leaving as many little red marks as he could.

Kavinsky finally moaned, the feeling of Ronan’s lips, his tongue, his teeth, moving carelessly all over his tattooed skin was more than enough, he was nearly busting out of his dress pants already. It was enhanced by the fact that he could see nothing, the tie around his face blocking out all light. He groaned as Ronan moved down his back, drawing blood here and there. His hands moving slowly to Kavinsky’s waist. Tugging at rim of the pants as he undid the zipper.

It took some shimmying on Kavinsky’s part, to get his legs out from under himself, but the awkward movement was over quickly, and Ronan wasted no time in pulling the pants down, nearly to Kavinsky’s ankles, before straddling his lower thigh. “A lot better than a quicky in your fucking car,” Ronan spoke into the dimples on Kavinsky’s lower back. Kavinsky moaned, before laughing.

“Hey, that thing in my temple.”

“Another fucking sacrifice for me?” Ronan laughed a bit too, lifting his head. He moved back up to Kavinsky’s neck, as his hands slowly pulled down Kavinsky’s tacky boxers. One of them moving around to the front, gripping Kavinsky’s hard cock firmly.

“Everything I do is for you, you son of a bitch.” Kavinsky moaned as Ronan’s hand slowly worked its way up and down Kavinsky’s dick, as his lips tore apart his throat lovingly. His hands were so warm. Kavinsky’s hips bucked back instinctively as Ronan gave another stroke before removing his hand. Finally, he pulled down his own pants, and grabbed the things he had retrieved from the car. A condom, and lube. Kavinsky heard the sound of the package ripping, the bottle opening. He moaned again, pushing his own ass further from the ground. So prepared to be taken. He wanted every inch of his tingling body to belong to Ronan Lynch.

And Ronan took every bit of it. With one hand on the back of Kavinsky’s head, gripping his hair and pushing it further into the ground, and the other firmly around Kavinsky’s cock, Ronan entered. It wasn’t something quick, like last time in the car, where both boys were mostly buzzed and enjoying something sloppy, and fun. This was different. Kavinsky swore as Ronan continued to thrust slowly. His hand working Kavinsky’s cock equally as slow.

Kavinsky wanted to set the pace. As Ronan thrusted forward slowly, Kavinsky bucked back quickly. “No fucking way,” Ronan chuckled. He thrusted forward again, this time moving his whole body, so that he was no longer vertical, but horizontal. He bit Kavinsky’s ear lobe. “I pick the tempo.” He mumbled, as he moved his head down to the nape of Kavinsky’s neck, dragging his teeth along the now tender skin as he did.

Kavinsky didn’t know how important he was to Ronan, he had no idea, and he didn’t care. Because Ronan Lynch was his whole world. The only person he’d let into his life so intimately, in every sense and every facet. And so he obliged, and moved at Ronan’s tempo, not wanting to anger such a beautiful and powerful god. Even though his dick was eager and his body longer for more, wanting it harder, and faster. He let Ronan work him over slowly. So slowly that he thought he might die before he finished. And Ronan really seemed to be enjoying himself.

It was such a spectacular finish. Kavinsky felt it through every inch of his body, as Ronan gave one final thrust, and primordial groan, making sure Kavinsky finished simultaneously.

Earthquakes and floods.

Kavinsky collapsed, with Ronan on top of him, breathing heavily. His body completely relaxed. Ronan rested his lips between the dip of Kavinsky’s shoulder blades. Breathing just as heavy as Kavinsky had been. “You want me to take that thing off?” He asked slowly, tugging lightly at the end of the tie. Kavinsky shrugged. He didn’t care either way. “I could really use a cigarette.” Ronan mumbled.

Kavinsky took a deep breath. “I love you.” He said as he turned his head slightly so he was no longer speaking to the grass. “I love you.” He repeated, a little quieter this time. He felt the slow creep of panic when Ronan didn’t answer. As every second passed his relaxed body became more alert. He was aware of the bruises on his back, the little bits of blood, the dampness from the grass and the bugs all around. His breath was shallow and shaky. In reality not much time had passed, but to Kavinsky it felt like a life time.

Ronan Lynch was his everything.

“I love you too,” Ronan finally said, with a small sigh as his eyes closed.


End file.
